


this thing we have

by marsbby2k20 (Elizabethramuk)



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Angst, Cheating, Fluff, Friends With Benefits, Hurt Derek Morgan, Hurt No Comfort, Hurt Spencer Reid, I mean it, Idiot!Derek, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Maybe - Freeform, Unrequited Love, also nobody bully the oc, it depends how you look at it i guess, its not her fault that dereks an idiot, oh yeah, very limited but
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-09
Updated: 2021-03-09
Packaged: 2021-03-16 10:35:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29948697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elizabethramuk/pseuds/marsbby2k20
Summary: Derek and Spencer have been doing this "thing" for months. They wake up next to each other, open up to each other, feel safe with one another. It's all of the perks of a relationship without the commitment.Except the lack of established boundaries proves to be detrimental.
Relationships: Derek Morgan/Spencer Reid
Comments: 10
Kudos: 38





	this thing we have

**Author's Note:**

> This is not edited very well, so if anyone notices anything major, my tumblr is @marsjareau :)

𓈈 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𓈈

  
Spencer awakes to the soft hum of cicadas outside his window and the muffled sounds of traffic filtering in through the open window. A bare man lay in bed next to him, arms wrapped around Spencer’s torso, feet intertwined with his like knotted rope. An endearing grin pulls at his rosebud lips. 

These mornings, when Derek hasn’t left in a hurry the night before, and work still feels days away, are his favorites. 

He perches himself over Derek, so that his lips rest on the lobe of his ear. “Wake up, Der,” he murmurs sensually, pressing a barely-there kiss to the bronze skin. Over the past few months, he’s gotten good at this: domesticity. He’s struck the perfect mix between demure innocence and reserved passion. Even Derek says so, although not nearly in so many words. 

Derek doesn’t say much anymore; still though, Spencer doesn’t think it’s naive to say that this is the closest they’ve been in a while. 

The large man shifts a bit, burrowing further into Spencer’s clavicle with a lengthy sigh. After a moment, he whispers, “You’re warm.”  
  
His tone is smooth and sweet as honey. Spencer wishes he could bottle it and stir it into his Earl Grey every morning. “What time is it?” 

Spencer steals a glance at the little analog clock on his bedside table, squinting to see the flashing numbers without his glasses. “Quarter to 6.” 

“I should leave soon, Spence. I’ve gotta pick up my dry cleaning before ten,” he says. Disentangling himself from Spencer, he pulls the linen sheets up over his chest and reaches over to flick the lamp on. Pale white light casts illumination over the left side of his face, shadows dance across the other. 

“I’ve uh, actually been meaning to talk to you about some stuff.” 

The way he says it doesn’t immediately cause Spencer to worry, so he figures it can’t be too bad. He slinks across the bed, pulling himself into Derek’s lap; his arms fall over the man’s shoulders, fingers clasping at the nape of his neck, and he begins trailing kisses along his jawline. “Of course,” he replies, drowning in bliss. 

_He’s never felt like this before._

Derek turns his head abruptly. “Please stop.” 

Pillowy pink lips drift apart in embarrassment, a blotchy, rose-colored blush sprouting upon the apples of his cheeks. He leans back onto Derek’s thighs, confused at the sudden dismissal. The glare he’s met with when he looks up makes him feel as if he’s no longer welcome on the man’s lap. 

Hastily, he withdraws from him, propping himself up against the headboard next to Derek so he doesn’t have to look the man in the eye. “Sorry,” he says, simply. He’s not sure what he’s apologizing for. 

Somehow he manages to squeak out a pitchy, “What did you want to talk about?” before he shuts down completely, setting his chin down on top of his knees as he folds in on himself like a child. 

Derek lets out an over exaggerated exhale, and to Reid, it's reminiscent of a death sentence. His dark brown eyes are trained on the ceiling, watching as the dust bunnies in the corner of the room sway with the summer breeze. “You know the girl at the front desk? Caroline?” 

“The blonde?” he asks stupidly, as if he doesn’t know exactly who Derek is talking about. The pretty, dishwater blonde from the lobby, who Derek flirted with mercilessly every chance he got. Spencer didn't mind though, because he trusts him; they had never clarified that their relationship was of the monogamous variety per se, but he didn’t think Derek would throw all of this away for her. 

Whatever _this_ is. 

“Yeah kid, the blonde,” he confirms. “Well, I guess we’ve gone on a couple of dates- you know, dinners and stuff like that- and she invited me to her sister’s wedding tonight. And So, I figure that if she’s inviting me to weddings already, it must be pretty serious. And… I don’t know it just feels wrong to do _this_ when it seems like I’m getting myself into a committed relationship.” 

A car rushes past outside, masking the unbearably loud sounds of silence. _So that's where he was Monday night_ , Spencer thought. _And Wednesday. And Sunday of last week._

If Derek had just shot him point blank right in the heart, the rejection might've hurt less. 

Discomfort creeps up Spencer’s spine, and suddenly, he feels ashamed at his current state of undress. Exposed.

The sheets are wrapped snug around Derek’s chest and he doesn’t think he has the courage to reach over and steal them, and his clothes are still scattered around the floor from last night's festivities. So silently, he sinks further into himself, covering exposed skin with more skin. 

“What are we?” he questions, breaking the growing tension. 

Ten minutes ago, when everything was hazy and rose tinted, he thinks he might’ve killed for an answer, something to define the limits of their relationship. Now he’s not so sure he wants one at all. 

“What?” 

“I… I think maybe I misinterpreted something.” Spencer admits, finally looking up at Derek, feeling weak with tears clinging to his full eyelashes and trembling lips. A sob threatens to climb out of his throat but he swallows it down to maintain some form of dignity. 

“What do you mean? Why are you crying?” 

_God_ , Spencer thinks, _how oblivious can he possibly be?_

A silvery tear escapes his waterline. Spencer feels it trickling down the slope of his cheekbone, a constant reminder of his inability to handle his emotions. Roughly, he rubs it away with the palm of his hand. 

“I-I-I don’t know? I guess I just thought... I mean we- we wake up next to each other almost everyday. Y-you call me sweetheart! We know each other's coffee orders-“

Derek interjects, “You know _everyone’s_ coffee order, kid.” 

“Yeah, but I- I only want to know yours!” he cries, snot slipping down his chin. He knows how abhorrent he must look, with puffy red eyes and a slick face, from both tears and sweat, but he doesn’t much care. 

They’re interrupted by Spencer’s six o’clock alarm before a response can be made, which buzzes blaringly throughout the bedroom. Derek immediately jumps out of the bed to shut it off, although they both know how easy it would have been for him to just reach over to the nightstand. 

When he turns back around, Spencer is on the edge of the bed closest to him, beige sheets pooling around his velvety thighs, concealing his most private areas. At any other time, the sight would have been tempting. 

He towers over the younger man in this new position and the inherent power imbalance makes his gut twist. If he knew this is how the conversation would pan out, with Spencer all but groveling at his feet, he would have left a note instead. 

It would've been easier for both of them. 

“What are you saying, Spencer?” Derek doesn’t mean for it to come out as it does, sharp and harsh as a steak knife. 

“I- I love you!” he cries.

A dark-skinned hand snakes down to Spencer’s chin, gripping so tight it ached. After a moment, he shakes his head disapprovingly. “You lied to me,” Derek utters. The words feel strange on his tongue, because Spencer’s never lied to him before. 

“ _What?_ ” he tries to say, but it comes out garbled, half-sobbed. 

Like always though, Derek understands him. “You told me you could compartmentalize- that you could separate sexual attraction from emotional attachment. You promised. Or have you forgotten?” He’s not sure why he’s being like this. He loves Spencer too, deeply. 

But him and Spencer aren’t meant to be. Derek Morgan is destined to end up with the pretty blonde girl who waves at him every morning, and who’s laugh jingles like Christmas bells when she speaks of her sister’s wedding dress. 

Caroline is good for him. Spencer is not. 

“That was months ago, Morgan. And I can!” 

“Clearly not,” he deadpans, waving his free hand around at nothing particular. 

Forcefully, Spencer removes the hand from his chin and pushes Derek off of him. He feels crowded, as if any minute now the walls are going to start closing in on him. “I loved you long before the sex, long before you even knew her name,” he announces, and there’s a sense of irrefutable finality to it. 

Derek backs up, soaking in the sight before him. He knows it's the last time he’ll see Spencer so vulnerable, and on a deeper level, he knows he’ll want to save this memory for later, for when he can’t fall asleep at night and he needs the image of a familiar face to soothe him to sleep. Even if that face is pained , tear-streaked 

He’ll remember the way those long, dainty fingers felt as they danced across his back. Those sinful lips, dragging across his chest. The first time he stayed the night, when he woke to a faceful of chestnut curls and the feeling of sunshine against his skin. 

“Kid, I don’t feel the same. You need to learn to accept that,” he lies. 

Spencer licks at his lips noncommittally and stares out the open window, trying his best to ignore Derek, who was redressing himself in the corner of the room.

“Was I really just a warm body for you to fuck when it was convenient to you?” he asks, watching as a beige minivan whirls past on the street below. The tears have dried on his skin, the big, gaping hole in his chest is slowly patching itself back up. He no longer feels heartbroken. Just stupid and numb as he deals with the aftermath of his unrequited love confession, as he watches the object of his affection struggle to find the right words to "let him down easy." 

“Reid, don’t make me answer that,” Derek pleads. He doesn’t want to have to lie again. 

“Why?" Spencer shouts, "Because the answer is yes?” 

The man doesn’t answer, too afraid that if he opens his mouth, he won't be able to stop the spew of "no"s and desperate apologies from escaping. 

He rushes out of the loft with his shirt half buttoned and an ache in his heart.

Spencer doesn’t see him look back, doesn’t see the tears escape from his eyes. 

_He’s never felt this way before._

**Author's Note:**

> uhhh hey  
> that was mostly just word vomit but i hope u enjoyed! leave kudos and comments if you did haha <3  
> (also, I might make this a multi chapter work where derek gets a redemption arc, but only if u guys want it lol)


End file.
